Abomination
by TheWaiter
Summary: David Fische is an abomination, a missing link between vampires and humans. His extraordinary gift makes him a wanted man. Will he figure out why he's being attacked, or will he succumb to the many forces behind these onslaughts?


_A/N: The credit to this idea goes in part to two awesome people, Alex and Karlee. They both listened to my idea of this type of character in a vampyric world, and I salute them both for it._

_I know, I know, I usually disappear after posting a new story. Lets see if I stick to it this time, ya?_

**Abomination**

**Chapter One: The Alpha**

It all started in Italy. Of course it did. It starts and ends with Italy, like the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end of the world, all of it resides in everyone's favourite pizza country: Italy.

I don't need to tell _you_ this, of course. If you're reading this, you already know about the world I live in, or, rather, the world I _lived _in. Though I'm not dead, not yet, I'm clearly going to be there in the next six weeks or so.

But, we're off topic. It started in Italy, Pizza country. For a while, that's all I thought of it. Pizza and pasta and that large coliseum thing and ancient towers, white stone, angry drivers. It was a country, rather than the beginning. Rather than the end.

I had been one of sixteen. Sixteen fresh young boys, full of cuss words, large alcohol thresholds, tough words, womanization, and pigheadedness. For some reason, the government finds it an amazing idea to find these particular types of boys, hand them high caliber assault rifles, and tell them to "defend their country".

Honestly, how could we not have inflated egos after eighteen plus years of media exposure?

We were the finest soldiers of our organization, which from this point on, I'll refer to MS5. MS5 was a powerful way to keep an eye on things in "alien" conditions. The government used them as their instrument, a way to walk up to countries, stab them with a porky finger, and say "We're watching you. Don't try anything."

Sixteen boys, armed to the teeth, hiding out in an Italian observatory. We had been sent there to quell some fighting between a group of cannibalistic gangsters, and a religious cult. We didn't know much about either side, just that they were targets. Kills, if you will. Apparently, the two sides had reached full scale war, and the Italian government had cried uncle. So, naturally, MS5 took it as a flaunting opportunity, and sent in The Unit.

We were sitting in a loose formation, chatting about everything and nothing. Girlfriends back home, stag parties, That Business In Taiwan... anything we could find in our brains before we would get a briefing on how to proceed. Only two people weren't talking; Maria Saunders, our translator, and our commanding officer, a patch of gray among the sea of blonde and brown, the aged soldier among barley pubescent men. His name is Marcus, but I didn't find that out until much later. We knew him as Sergeant John Flanders, MS5. The commanding officer, the link back home.

We stat there, the fourteen of us, discussing politics and sex positions, food and beer, girlfriends and break ups, mothers and fathers, cats and dogs, anything we could to keep us entertained. A small chuckle escaped me at one boy's story when one of my friends, Gordon, suddenly raised his head.

"Did you guys hear that?"

We all stopped talking immediately, listening. I could hear it now, too. Scuttling, coming from the ceiling. Almost like someone was climbing up the walls...

Gordon drew his gun tighter across his lap. I followed suit.

Sergeant John Flanders looked at us all, his eyes, a light brown, almost red, were the only visible feature. "Easy, boys. We might as well get some shuteye."

Maria Saunders visibly swallowed. Gordon scrunched his eyes together in confusion. His reply was cut short by a horrible screech.

It sounded like squealing your tires in a multi-level garage, at first. Something we all were confused by, and then annoyed by, and then, suddenly, we were enraged. One soldier threw his cap at the ceiling in anger, two more started yelling, swearing at the noise to stop.

The screech increased, and waves of fear rolled through my head. I was vaguely aware that Gordon was curled in a ball, shivering. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and then the screech changed again. This time, it was loud, reverberating through our skulls like a jackhammer. This time, it was merely _loud._

Gordon was clutching his head with both hands, screaming in a yell that was drowned out by the screech. I felt a liquid running down my neck. I wiped at it, and my hand came up red. Bleeding. My fucking ears were _bleeding_.

Mercifully, the screeching stopped. The soldiers around me all uncurled from their various positions of pain, while I still knelt, on the floor, staring down at the redness of my hand. I looked up to meet the sergeants eyes, but found them closed, a satisfied smile across his lips. He opened his eyes, and I was met by fiery red orbs.

To this day, I still haven't felt as much fear as I did then, staring into his gaze. His eyes were burning red. His lips, an easy smile. He was _enjoying_ himself.

And then, I didn't feel anything, as they were upon us.

Descending like angels of death, their skin as white as stone, a stark contrast to the darkness around them. Their eyes, like pinpoints of light, were blood red, and all of their mouths were open, in a steady _hiss_.

The screeching started again as the boys grabbed up their weapons, and shot skyward. Gordon dropped to one knee, firing, yelling, trying to drown out the screech. I still knelt, my hand still red, my ears still bleeding. The noise, the screeching, the firing, the yelling, the hissing, the dull ringing of casings hitting the floor, the clomp of boots as the soldiers re-adjusted-

It all stopped.

I looked around me. The action hadn't stopped. The boys' faces were still caught in screams of rage and fear, pained from the screeching. The casings continued to fall. The Angels continued to hiss.

It took a moment to realize that the problem wasn't the action around me, it was myself. I was suddenly thrust into a cone of silence, as if the operator of my sound board had gone on break and spilled his coffee all over the equipment. I had gone deaf.

I had just turned in shock to grab my own weapon when the first marble soldier hit.

As it fell, gracefully, it's face sporting a monstrous expression, it struck, hitting the closest boy with an outstretched hand. His head came clean off, his body crumbling as the detachment took place. His neck sprouted in a fountain of blood, and the marble being leaned down, sucking the blood of it's victim at the source.

Two more of the vampires landed, then. One tackled a man, latching onto his neck, biting ferociously. Another grabbed an arm, and tore it off. A third cleanly ripped a private in half, barely giving his weapon time to fall before he was feasting.

Vampires. We were shooting at vampires.

I staggered backwards, staring around wildly. The smell was nauseating, triggering an impulse to flee like I'd never experienced. To my left, Gordon was backpedaling, putting burst after burst into the advancing statues. He turned to sprint, and was dragged down, exploding in a mass of blood.

In my cone world, I didn't even hear his last words.

I was confused. Everywhere I turned, there was a scene of feasting. The once pale beige floor of the Observatory had turned into a river of red that was quickly being lapped up by a few of the late statues to arrive. It was a bloodbath in every sense of the world.

In the blink of an eye, my visage was filled with an inhuman face.

Not inhuman in an unpleasant way, but inhuman because... it was breathtakingly beautiful. Perfect features, flawless skin, glowing red eyes. What made it horrifying was the smile that darkened his face, his teeth dark with blood. He spoke, said something that made the others around him laugh. The look on my face must've made them laugh harder.

The monster reached out, and touched my cheek. Suddenly, my mind was aware of an invader, going through my thoughts. He studied them. Coaxed them. Absorbed everything about my identity, and pocketed it.

I leapt back from his touch, staggering due to my sudden movement. He advanced with me, matching my steps.

In desperation, I drew my pistol and shot him, once, twice, three times. He just blinked at the sound, laughing at my look of astonishment. I fell backwards, landing hard on my ass as he advanced, teeth bared.

I did the only thing I could, in the moment.

I spat at him, and then said, with as much bravado I could muster, "Fuck you, Vampire." The words seemed strange against my throat, strangely empty to my silent ears.

I blacked out, as hands reached for me.


End file.
